But in recent months, the Miami artist has given up the substances that spawned his alter ego, he tells me on a sunny May afternoon in New York. The rapper is in dark jeans and a ragged Metallica t-shirt, his fingernails long and sharp in a way that could probably do some damage if needed. He speaks somberly and methodically. "Now I'm alert and on point," he says.

The change is palpable on his debut record,Mysterious Phonk: The Chronicles of SpaceGhostPurrp, which features remastered versions of songs he and new label 4AD culled from his catalogue of mixtapes, along with three new tracks. The album crystallizes SpaceGhost's drugged-out array of micro-themes-- a hazy blur of Three 6 Mafia, Wu-Tang, and DJ Screw samples, spectral chanting-- into something tight and cohesive, without abandoning his original aesthetic appeal. We spoke about spirituality, his new record deal, and the dark underbelly of Miami.

"It's odd to see a black person painting his nails in Miami,
especially in the hip-hop community. They don't understand
that hip-hop isn't one thing anymore, it's all types."

Pitchfork: I see you're wearing a Metallica t-shirt.

SpaceGhostPurrp: Love them. I like Meshuggah, too-- I really like metal. People were like, "Why'd you paint your nails black?" I'm like, "I'm black and I like metal." It's odd to see a black person painting his nails in Miami, especially in the hip-hop community. They don't understand that hip-hop isn't one thing anymore, it's all types. I see my shit as a dark metal-folk rap.

Pitchfork: Your music represents a shadowy side of Miami. Is that something you set out to do?

SGP: I want to show people that Miami isn't all beaches and jet skis and popping bottles. You've got the black community, the Haitian community, the Spanish population. People ain't got shit, and they don't tolerate a lot of shit the way they do in New York. In Miami, there's nothing going on. Everybody's depressed; everybody's trying to get jobs, feed their families. At three in the morning you see the fiends just walking around, ready to eat. Evil spirits lurking.

Pitchfork: What's the significance of the song title "Osiris of the East"?

SGP: Osiris was the lord of the underworld. To me, Miami is like Hell and I'm Osiris when it comes to music-- I'm underrated and I came through with this rare sound. "East" means east of Miami, which is South Beach. So I'm the "Osiris of the East", I became my own god in music, and I took over South Beach.

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Pitchfork: There are a lot of spiritual undertones on your new album, are you religious at all?

SGP: I was born a Christian, but I became an atheist back in high school because I just started losing faith. I'd lost my brother and best friend, Nadarius. I couldn't get a job. But I do feel like there is a higher power now, and it's inside of me. I was on drugs, weed, partying every night, and not giving a fuck about myself and my health. Then I began praying to myself, and since then I've started to notice that everybody around me wasn't who I thought they were. They just wanted to get me fucked up.

I would always drink purple drink-- syrup. I would just be in a room, screwing and chopping up music. It was like an alter ego-- I would turn into another person when I was on a substance. My music would get darker and weirder, and it inspired a lot of people. But I've changed my life and stopped smoking. I like to turn up and have fun when I get the chance, but I don't overdo it now.

Pitchfork: Now that you're mostly clean, is it difficult to reproduce a sound you crafted while you were smoking a lot of weed and drinking syrup?

SGP: No, because now it's better lyrically, and I can stay focused. When I was high, I would get too drowsy and lazy, and say, "Fuck it, I just want to lay down and watch TV." Now I'm alert and more on point. Everything is more organized.

Pitchfork: What was the process of picking and remastering tracks from your catalog for Mysterious Phonk?

SGP: 4AD picked out a list of songs they liked, and I chose between them. Some of them had samples that we couldn't clear, so we had to take them out. A lot of stuff, including "Tha Black God" and "Get Yah Head Bust", had to be changed. They sound 100 percent better now-- you can hear everything.

"In the Raider Klan, we're just little fucking delinquent assholes,
a bunch of dark-ass skaters who are underrated."

Pitchfork: 4AD is mostly known for indie rock. How did that deal come about?

SGP: They reached out to me via email. I read about the label, what they wanted to do, and thought it was cool.

Pitchfork: You've worked with A$AP Rocky in the past, did you ever consider putting something out through his label?

SGP: I didn't want to sign with A$AP Worldwide at the time because I was going through some personal things and I had to go back home to my mother in Miami. I also just wanted to feel independent as a man.

Pitchfork: How did you link up with the A$AP crew in the first place?

SGP: Rocky reached out to me on Facebook last year after he dropped his "Purple Swag" video, saying how much he loved and appreciated my music. We did a couple of shows together in New York, and we had a good time. But the A$AP Mob and [SpaceGhost clique] the Raider Klan represent two different lifestyles. In the Raider Klan, we're just little fucking delinquent assholes, a bunch of dark-ass skaters who are underrated.

Pitchfork: Everyone's a skater now!

SGP: It's thanks to Pharrell. He really sacrificed and put it on the map in the black community. If you skated back in the day in the hood, people would laugh at you and say, "Oh, this motherfucker got some fuckin' little jeans and some Vans on." Small-minded people. I thank Pharrell for all this because now you can catch kids skating through the hood everywhere in America.

Pitchfork: You've said there are Raider Klan members all over the country. How does someone become a member?

SGP: We don't just let anybody in, we really have to get to know the person first. We all ride together-- we can't leave each other hanging. We've all been through a lot of shit and one day, I'm gonna have all of them-- 100 of them-- in one fucking building, so we can record all of us. Now, we keep in touch via the internet and Twitter.

We don't tell nobody what our next move is. We have low-key meetings where we talk about the issues we see, what's fair, what's not fair, the good news, the bad news, the silly news. Wife and girlfriend problems.

Pitchfork: You've produced music for a Raider Klan member named Amber London. Who is she?

SGP: She's a lady soldier from Houston. She's like a female version of me, trying to bring that real rap shit back, but for ladies. She is saying "Look, ladies got to step it up. Y'all falling off." Amber London is a political rapper, a preaching rapper who speaks true facts and not just nonsense. I'm gonna be real-- there's no female rappers in the game.

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Pitchfork: What about some of the women rapping in Chicago right now?

SGP: Yeah, I fuck with Katie Got Bandz and Sasha GoHard, who reminds me of my home girls in Miami. She is so fucking cute and gangster. I respect the Chicago movement right now-- that's how local artists in Miami are, too. It's the same mentality: "Keep it tight with certain motherfuckers, no lame ass niggas out your circle." Chief Keef makes me proud that there are other young niggas out there who are about that code.